Nothing to Lose
by Our Vulnerability
Summary: Brief oneshot from the perspective of Twitchtip.


Little oneshot about Twitchtip. Similar to my _Skeleton in the Pit_ from years past but this is new. I wrote it as a prologue but I didn't have any inspiration left to write a full story, so this is all I have. Anyway, enjoy! Reviews are appreciated.

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"I'm blind."

The words echoed through Twitchtip's mind but didn't fully register for several seconds. "I'm blind." Then she realized her folly.

She was not blind. Blindness hardly even made a difference in the Underland. It was worse: she could not smell a thing. Where she was accustomed to a constant, extensive stream of sensory information, there was nothing.

Twitchtip gasped, trying to meet her body's oxygen demand by sucking air in through her mouth. The reason she could not smell anything, nor breathe through her nose, was that her nose was congested with blood and covered with one of the killers' bandages. There was a dull pain, too, which reminded her that her nose was broken. An image of a serpent's tail flashed across her mind as she recalled the events of the serpent attack.

Afterward, they had sheltered in one of the caves which led to the Labyrinth in order to regroup. A number of things had then transpired. Howard tended to the wounds of everyone in the group and was probably responsible for her still having life right now. Then Gregor forced Howard and Mareth's bond Andromeda to carry Mareth, who was unconscious from the serpent attack, back across the Waterway. The killers' queen, Luxa, seemed to have drowned, along with her bond Aurora and the warrior's sister.

The warrior. What was left of the group had entered the Labyrinth. Twitchtip sent Gregor and Ares, his bond, on without her. Despite Howard's medical work, she was losing blood, and she could not go on any longer. Without her nose to guide them, she was really just dead weight anyway.

Some bread and beef lay at Twitchtip's side, left by Gregor. Usually the humans' food was unbearable to her hypersensitive nose. Since she currently couldn't smell a thing, it would probably be prudent to eat everything she could. That way she would have energy if she did get the opportunity to escape. But Twitchtip just didn't have the appetite to do so.

Survival seemed unlikely now, anyway. Despite what she had just said to Gregor about finding the cave she had once stowed away in, Twitchtip had serious doubts. Here she pathetically lay, in the heart of the gnawers' land, a traitor to her kind. She would never get the opportunity to join Ripred's band of gnawers. She would die here. Soon, ideally.

A pair of voices caught Twitchtip off guard. Ordinarily she would have smelled them from several miles away. But her nose was out of commission and she did not have that luxury. The curse of being a scent seer was as problematic not to have as it was to have.

They were close. Claws scratching against rock as they tore through the Labyrinth in her direction. Their frantic panting indicated how excited they were at the prospect of blood. Not having her sense of smell, it was something to get used to. Especially now, as she was bleeding profusely, predators could detect her from much larger distances than she could detect them.

"I was right!" One called, the volume indicating the gnawers' frightening proximity. "I told you I smelled blood, Scarstrike."

Twitchtip felt her pulse increase. Adrenaline was pumping through her body, prompting her to fight or flee. But she could not find the strength to do either. Even if she did stand up and run, they would catch her as soon as she tired.

Suddenly the scratching stopped. In the silence Twitchtip could hear a droplet of water hit the stony ground. A few hopeful scenarios quickly ran through her mind, one involving the warrior coming back and killing the two incoming gnawers. But she did not really believe that she had gotten off that easily.

They were now close enough, apparently, that Twitchtip could hear one of them take a deep sniff. "Be it a gnawer?" the voice asked with a hint of surprise in its voice.

There was a pause. Then the other responded, "It must be the traitor!"

Twitchtip's heart sank. It was inevitable but hearing it made the reality more horrifying. For some reason she'd been expecting death. But that wouldn't happen. Not yet, at least. No, Twitchtip knew what the gnawers would do to a traitor. There was not much precedent, as gnawers seldom betrayed their own species, but Twitchtip had a feeling they would not bless her with a swift death.

The two rats came into the scope of Twitchtip's echolocation as they rounded a corner. Their short-lived confusion had quickly evaporated, replaced with hate. Twitchtip didn't even try to move.

One of the rats cackled, "How vulerable."

"How vulnerable indeed."

Twitchtip winced and braced herself for what was coming. The attack, the captivity, the torture.

However, none of that came just yet. The two gnawers perked up, looking around. Then they looked at each other. "Killers!" they both hissed. They both darted toward the tunnel that led toward the Tankard.

One of the two pulled up short. "What about the traitor?" Twitchtip realized that they probably did not recognize her. That was better. She had little interest in being recognized as an outcast in addition to a traitor.

The other paused to consider this for a few seconds. "Leave her. She's not going anywhere." At that, the two gnawers took off down the path.

What humans had they smelled? It couldn't have been Gregor. He had gone in the other direction, and Twitchtip knew the Labyrinth well enough to know that he would have had to pass her to get back to the Tankard.

Then it dawned on Twitchtip. Unless Howard had for some reason returned with Mareth and Andromeda, which was unlikely, the only other possibility was the queen. Perhaps she had survived the attack. And if they had detected another human, perhaps the Overlander pup was with her.

Twitchtip fought to stand. Her muscles complained, but obliged in the end. The few minutes of rest was all she needed. She was limping after the two gnawers when she came to a halt. What was she doing?

The gnawers had just turned their attention from her. She could escape from here. She could find a safe location to stow away until she recovered more. Those gnawers, as well as any others who caught her scent, were doubtlessly going to attack and kill the queen. Anyone who tried to defend her would be cut down as well. And Twitchtip owed the queen little. Certainly not her life.

But then why had she stood up in the first place? Surely her first instinct bore some significance. Her mind conjured an image of the queen, someone she had been taught to hate. And the queen had initially hated her, too. But this wasn't about the queen. After the journey, after travelling across the Waterway with the Overlander, there was at least a trace of acceptance. Gregor, who dove into the raging whirlpool to save her, a rat. That was what Twitchtip was now fighting for. Not the queen. Not even the Overlander or his annoying sister. But the idea that killers and gnawers did not have to be at odds.

Twitchtip resumed limping in the direction of the queen with a renewed sense of urgency. Perhaps her injuries were merely going to her head. Perhaps trying to save the queen was senseless. But Twitchtip now felt confident she'd be dead in the end anyway. There was nothing to lose.

The steady sound of a flier beating its wings met her ears. Not much further. The combat was beginning, Twitchtip could tell, and it was evident that there were more than two rats. Twitchtip broke out into a run. A few of her bandages tore off, but the fresh air felt nice on her wounds, even if they were bleeding and aching.

By the time Twitchtip arrived at the scene, Luxa was slicing her sword down at one of the rats from the back of her golden flier Aurora. But there were too many rats- at least a dozen- and she could not afford to get low enough to make contact. The pup and her little cockroach friend sat on the bat's back as well. So the pup had survived as well. The warrior would be very pleased, but Twitchtip did not dwell on this for long. It was now Twitchtip's job to keep her alive.

Luxa shouted something over her shoulder to Temp the crawler, but Twitchtip couldn't pick it up over the din of the combat. Aurora flew away from the group of gnawers, sweeping just inches over the ground. They paused- slowed, really- just long enough for the crawler and pup to jump off. The pup climbed on Temp's back and he fled down one of the tunnel.

The gnawers were on the human-flier pair in a second. The bat hastily pulled up, a claw raking her chest. One gnawer caught the queen on her leg.

Twitchtip took the opportunity to jump into the action. She leapt at one gnawer who seemed to be in the least favorable position to retaliate. She had to be swift if she was to ensure the queen could survive.

Her claws dug into the haunches of her target, knocking him to the ground. He howled in pain, alerting the other gnawers to Twitchtip's presence, and managed to swing his tail into Twitchtip's side. The blow caused her to stagger but she stayed on her feet and finished the gnawer by chomping down hard on his neck. Warm blood flowed through her jaws. While the attack probably would not kill him, Twitchtip hoped he would be incapacited for long enough.

Having lost the element of surprise, Twitchtip backed up several feet. Some of the gnawers had turned their attention toward her, but there were so many that they could still maintain their assault on Luxa. They were hollering things at her, awful curses in gnawer, but she tuned it all out.

One of the gnawers stepped forward, his face contorted into a cruel, hateful sneer. The adrenaline rush was passing and Twitchtip could feel her wounds aching, the blood flowing without bandages to halt it. The gnawer crouched before her was bigger by about half a foot and probably more than one hundred pounds. He had several noticeable scars, but did not seem wounded. He was a soldier, no doubt, and probably a far better fighter than Twitchtip. She felt like she was at a severe disadvantage.

In the background Luxa swung her sword and shaved off the ear of one gnawer, but another's claw came dangerously close to grappling Aurora's wing. Twitchtip couldn't delay any longer.

Without giving her attack much thought, Twitchtip tightened her muscles and pounced straight toward the gnawer who had stepped up to fight her. Despite having challenged her, he didn't seem fully prepared for the attack. This was only a small advantage, however, compared to his superior size and condition.

Twitchtip clawed his shoulder and jumped back to dodge his tail as it whipped around his left side. She was beginning to feel confident about fighting this opponent- maybe he wasn't such a good fighter- when he came straight at her. There was no time to react. His full weight was too much to handle. She was forced over, temporarily losing her sense of orientation. As she scrambled into a defensive position onto her stomach the gnawer's tail crashed into her face. In addition to the blood from the last gnawer she bit, Twitchtip tasted her own. She instinctively hid her face but felt a hot, raw pain explode on her back as he clawed her there.

This was it. The moment she died. But she didn't mean to die like this. She had an objective.

The claws raked her back another time. Blood soaked her fur, hot and sticky. The blow dissolved almost all of the resolve Twitchtip had just built up. She hardly had anything left in her when she stuck her head up and shouted a single word in human, "Run!"

It was enough. Her eyes locked with Luxa's for a fraction of a second. And then the girl turned away, her flier carrying her down one of the nearby tunnels.

A few of the gnawers chased after her, but it was futile. They wouldn't be able to catch her on Aurora. Those that remained would be focused on Twitchtip.

Twitchtip braced for another attack, but none was forthcoming. No tail struck her in the face. No claws tore at her back or sides. No teeth bit at her neck. It was strange because Twitchtip knew the gnawers assembled before her could tear her up in a matter of seconds. Maybe they knew it as well and they were just delaying to cause her more agony and terror.

There was silence. Twitchtip risked looking up and immediately regretted it. There were several- six or seven- gnawers sitting there, glaring at her. What she had ruined for them was immeasurable. The only surviving member of the killer royal family. The Overlander pup. Both within their grasp until Twitchtip interceded.

"Before we were going to kill you. Now," one gnawer spoke, his voice cold as stone, "we will torture you."


End file.
